


Arcann/Reader

by Khaleesi_of_Assassins



Series: Star Wars Dark Side Scanarios [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Arcann Needs Therapy, F/M, Fortunately You're There, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-06-18 16:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaleesi_of_Assassins/pseuds/Khaleesi_of_Assassins
Summary: It was to be expected that Emperor Arcann's war would reach all corners of the galaxy, but the unexpected happens when he leads an attack on your homeworld, claiming that the Outlander has a connection to something there.And that something, it seems, is you.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So, as Arcann's main opponent is the Outlander, I have made something of an OC as a stand-in for the Outlander in this story. He will be a Sith Warrior (so formerly the Emperor's Wrath).

     “Identification,” you were barely paying attention as you handed over the necessary papers to the guard, who looked them over briefly before handing them back to you. He waved you past lazily before addressing the next person in line, obviously just as tired as you were. It had been a long day, and you were glad to be finally returning home.

     Not that your home was much to look at.

     It was another few minutes of walking before you arrived, finding the small two room apartment (a generous description) exactly as you had left it, your small bed unkempt and various trinkets littering the room. You laid your bag down on the floor and went about making yourself dinner, occasionally glancing out your singular window to see the sky darkening and stars appearing overhead. 

     After your bland meal you slumped down on your bed, reaching up to a small compartment to where you kept your most prized possessions. It held your datapad, blaster, a few extra ration packs, there was really nothing of value to anyone but you in that box. Except perhaps the little (F/C) crystal that had been yours as long as you could remember. It was the most valuable thing you owned, and no matter how low on credits you had been you had never considered selling it. 

     You picked it up, rolling it between your fingers for a moment before taking your datapad and beginning to read as you liked to do each night. It wasn’t long before you drifted into a deep sleep, welcoming it after a long day.

     At least until the ground shook and screams echoed outside. You sprang up at the disturbance, brushing (H/C) of hair out of your face and grabbing your blaster. You had not expected to step out into a warzone.

     Fighters flew overhead, raining bombs down that engulfed buildings in flames. Your eyes widened in terror as you looked down the street, seeing the city guards firing desperately at troops clad in white armor. You ran back into the house, desperately reaching for your belongings, but most importantly the (F/C) crystal which you stuffed into your pocket. 

     Then you were running through the streets, away from the carnage that seemed to chase you. You ran until your legs grew too weak to carry you and your breathing was labored, looking through the city square that was now a battlefield. You ducked just in time for blaster-fire to miss you as you watched the chaos, one person catching your attention. He moved with a fluidity you had never seen, slashing his golden lightsaber around him as though it were as easy as breathing. His left arm was completely cybernetic, and the metal that made it crawled up over his white armor to cover the left side of his face, allowing only part of his furious expression be seen.

     More blaster-fire peppered the air around you, so out of instinct you pointed the firearm in your own hand and squeezed the trigger, watching sparks fly from the droids you hit.

     It wasn’t until your blaster was ripped from your hands did you stop, watching it fly into the waiting hand of the man with the yellow lightsaber. His exposed eye was fixed on you, and you moved your own gaze between it and the blade in his hand. “W-who are you?” you asked, trying to remain calm as you gazed into the eyes of death.

     “I am Arcann, Emperor of Zakuul.” Using his robotic hand, he crushed your blaster while he continued to examine you, before turning away.

     You used the opportunity to run.


	2. When He Sees You Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the attack, you find yourself coming face to face with the Emperor of Zakuul once again.

        By the time dawn broke over the smoldering city, it belonged to the Eternal Empire. Their soldiers marched throughout the streets and you did the best you could to avoid them, as did everyone else. You stood amidst a crowd comprised of almost the entire city, all called here by the Emperor of Zakuul. Arcann.

        You watched the soldiers patrol the city square, marching up and down the sidewalks. Despite Arcann’s message of peace, these guards told you that he suspected there would be some sort of threat to him here. Not that he would have much to worry about if that was the case. It had taken him only a few hours to gain control of the city and you doubted any further resistance would free it.

        Your gaze drifted away from the guards to the structure that overshadowed the courtyard, a palace that had sat there since the city’s oldest days. Walking out of the huge gate and into the sunlight was a familiar man clad in white. Arcann was still wearing his armor - which surprised you a bit - as he made his way over to the balcony, his voice menacing and deep as he spoke. “I am not here to destroy your city, but rather one being. We received reports that the Outlander was gathering resistance in this city, hoping to stand against the Eternal Throne.”

        Murmuring spread throughout the crowd at the mention of this “Outlander”. You had heard rumors about him gathering resistance against Zakuul, but nothing more.

        “We have confirmed that he was here. Help the Eternal Empire find him, and you will be rewarded. Hinder us, and you will be destroyed.” Arcann glared out at the crowd as he spat the words, leaving everyone in silence. He had the city under his control now, and even you had to admit he was masterful at it.

        The Emperor took only a few more moments to sweep the city square with his piercing gaze, his exposed eye wandering over you . . . and settling there. It was only for a moment, but long enough for you to become worried as he moved on.

        You watched him carefully as he then turned and left the city square, each of his steps deliberate.

        It took a few moments for people to start to leave, suspicion in their eyes as they examined each other. They were looking for the Outlander, you realized. Somehow, you doubted they would find him. If he were at all intelligent, he wouldn’t have stayed in the city throughout the assault if he had even been here at all.

        There was a part of you though, however small, that hoped he was indeed here among the crowds and would strike back against the Eternal Empire. A misplaced hope perhaps but it was something at least.

        When the crowd began to clear, you made your way through the city square, towards your home. You weren’t even sure if it had survived the night but you hadn’t had time to check in all the chaos of that morning. You had just taken your first steps down the street when a man wearing gold armor stopped you, his face hidden behind the mask worn by the soldiers of Zakuul.

        “You will come with us back to the palace.” He said with a steeliness that made your heart beat faster. More of these armed men surrounding you didn’t help.

        “Why?” you asked, seeing that you were surrounded.

        “Emperor Arcann wishes to see you.”

        Your mind was racing to find a way to get out of this situation. You couldn’t fight them, you had seen what they could do. Running would probably only work for so long before they caught you.

        Dread overtaking you, you nodded and began following the group back towards the palace.

        You had never been inside before, and under any other circumstances you might have gawked at the beautiful architecture that made up every inch of the structure. However, as you saw the white-clad man sitting on a throne at the opposite end of a large room, you found worry was all that was on your mind.

        His eye locked on you again, and he motioned you forward with his hand. It wasn’t until on of the men at your back pushed you forward did you realize you had been unresponsive.

        You slowly made your way towards Arcann, stopping at the foot of the dais his throne sat upon. The two of you studied each other for a moment before he spoke, his mechanical voice more calm than before. “What is your name?” he asked, the question surprising you.

        “(Y/N),” you responded, not hiding the curiosity in your voice.

        Arcann leaned forward in his seat, his eye trailing over your features carefully. “You have lived here your whole life?”

        Hesitantly, you nodded. “Yes.”

        “Hmm,” he stood and made his way down to you. He began to circle you, your eyes following as best you could. “There’s something about you . . .” he trailed off as he stopped in front of you, “I sensed it last night but I couldn’t be sure. Now though,” his yellow eye narrowed, “I can feel the Outlander’s presence on you.”

        Your eyes widened. “I’ve never met the Outlander in my life-”

        “Perhaps, but I can sense him. That much is clear.” He looked to one of the men in armor that brought you here, “take her to a cell. We will leave in a few days and bring her with us.”

        He turned and ascended the steps again, and you stepped forward after him. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” you pleaded only to have two men grasp your arms and lead you away. “Please!” you called out before the doors to the throne room closed. You could barely force your legs to move as the guards took you deeper into the palace before you were tossed into a small room, a ray shield activating to separate you from the world outside.

        You ran to the edge of your cell, watching the guards disappear down the hall, leaving you in silence.


	3. (In)voluntary Assistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's little room for debate when it comes to Arcann, particularly when he may have an advantage over the Outlander.

        You sat in your cell, your back pressed against the wall as you watched the hall through the force field as you had for hours. Guards had passed occasionally, only glancing in to see if you were still there before moving on. 

        Having given up on trying to escape some time ago, you now sat in the cell, your mind moving on to what possible connection you could have to this “Outlander”. How Arcann had managed to come up with the idea that you were somehow connected to the man was still troubling you. You knew little of him, other than the fact that he was very powerful and a veteran of the galactic Civil War. Of course, that war probably was the least of the Empire or Republic’s worries.

        Still, you had no explanation of how you were tied to him, but your mind had no shortages of ideas about what Arcann would do to you. Torture and execution seemed to be common themes. 

        So when you heard the marching of several guards outside your door, your heart did speed up a bit. The gold-armored men and women stopped outside your cell and deactivated the force field, the one leading the group motioning to you. “Get up,” he ordered in a gruff tone, to which you complied. 

        “What’s happening?” you dared to ask as you stepped forward.

        The man spoke again as he reached forward, grabbing your wrists and placing restraints around them. “We’re returning to Zakuul.” The thought of Arcann’s words was still fresh in your mind, though you honestly had just expected him to have you killed here so he wouldn’t have to bother bringing you anywhere. 

        You were lead back through the palace, your eyes trained on the floor almost the entire time. This was your home, and you had never left it. You had dreamed of doing so your whole life, of seeing the stars and the hundreds of worlds that orbited them.

        You just never thought you would be leaving your world in chains. 

        Arcann was standing in the throne room when you entered, in a conversation with one of the knights who nodded at something Arcann said before bowing and walking the other direction. Then Arcann turned to you. 

        “I trust you are ready to leave?” he asked, making you meet his gaze with a glare. 

        “What do you want with me? I don’t know the Outlander I’ve never met him in my life-”

        “I do not need you to have known him. You will accompany me to Zakuul and in doing so, you will help me destroy the Outlander.”

        You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “I’ve never fought in my life,” you tried to reason. Perhaps there was some chance he would let you go, let you resume your life. Somehow though, you knew it would be in vain.

        “You don’t need to fight, (Y/N),” he stepped closer to you, making you tense, “if the Outlander has such a bond with you, he will come to you. And he will be destroyed. Take her to the ship. I will join you shortly.” He ordered the guard nearest to him, who took you by the forearm and led you away.


	4. To the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You always dreamed of seeing other worlds. You just never thought that it would be as a captive of an Emperor.

 

        You had fully expected to be thrown into another cell once you stepped aboard the ship. It would have made the most sense, given your current status in Arcann’s plan, so you were very surprised when you were instead left in a room with a somewhat plush bed, even a window so you could see your city outside.

        It could have been an attempt to demoralize you, you realized as you looked out the glass. You could see the same things you had grown up seeing in your city, the busy markets, the way the sun reflected off the windows . . . it made your heart sink to know that you would probably never see any of it again. Still, you watched the people from the small window, a small part of you hoping that someone would notice you.

        Heavy footsteps echoed throughout the small ship, followed by a command in a deep voice that told you Arcann was onboard. You moved away from the window and peered instead towards the closed door on the other side of the room.

        After a few moments, you saw Arcann pass, his only stop being to cast a glance at you, your eyes meeting his exposed one. You couldn’t read what expression they held, and he quickly turned away and was gone from view, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

        Then you felt the ship lurch, and you saw the ground moving further and further away out the window.

        You ran to the window faster than you knew you could, pressing your hands against the glass as you saw the city shrinking away in the distance. Soon after that, you could see the huge forests that engulfed your world, the sky a brilliant pale blue as the clouds disappeared the higher the ship flew.

        You barely noticed how low your jaw dropped, your focus was fully on the scene outside. You had rarely ever traveled outside of your city, and here you were watching the black ink of night stain the sky, stars appearing in every inch of the night you could see. The moon of your planet hung in the distance, a beautiful silver-blue color that seemed to glow.

        Trying to contain yourself proved to be useless; you had never been this close to the stars, and their sheer and utter beauty allowed to you to forget for just a moment why you were among them.

        -----

        Arcann was not one for aimless wandering. Acting with a purpose had become his fixation, but today he found himself returning to the room of his latest captive. His gaze pierced through the glass between him and the (H/C)’d girl, finding her on the far side of the room.

He managed to suppress a chuckle at the sight of you, your mouth hanging open and your (E/C) eyes wide at the empty space before you.

        You truly had never left your little planet, had you? And to think that a simpleton like you had such a strong connection to the Outlander . . . he shook his head before turning and walking the other way. He would know more once on Zakuul, and the trap would be baited.


	5. A New Life

        “Get up,” you jumped a bit as a harsh voice woke you from your sleep, and you looked up half expecting Arcann to be standing over you. You were instead greeted by the golden mask of a Zakuulan Knight. After examining him for a moment, you turned your head to the window, seeing an unfamiliar planet looming closer to the window, a giant shadow in space with the sun shining brightly behind it.

        You could guess which planet it was. “Is that Zakuul?” you asked timidly.

        The Knight nodded, stepping away from the bed to make room for you to stand. You did so, reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed behind but even more so when you realized this would be your first official day as a hostage on an alien world.

        Still, you supposed that they wouldn’t kill you. At least not until whatever Arcann was planning for the Outlander was over.

        You were escorted down the hallway of the ship, the Knight behind you being much more generous with the space between the two of you than those who had kept watch over you on your home planet. It made sense. After all, there weren’t many places for you to run to now.

        Arcann was nowhere to be found as you were led off the ship, being greeted instead by several of the white armored troopers that had invaded your city. They didn’t look at you, not even throwing a glance your way while you walked past them. You only paid attention to them for a moment before you saw your surroundings.

        You were in awe of the structure around you, rivaling even the palace of your city with its beauty. As you walked through the many corridors, you were almost able to convince yourself you were living out some grand dream.

        That the Emperor of Zakuul wouldn’t be waiting for you wherever your destination was.

        You dreaded the thought of seeing him again. What you weren’t expecting was to find a woman waiting for you at a large pair of double doors. She was pretty, with sharp features that were focused on you. “So, you’re my brother’s new pet?” She grinned as she stepped closer, her predatory yellow gaze locked on you. “I suppose I see the appeal.”

        You suddenly felt much more nervous, something you could tell she reveled in.

        Her gaze turned to the Knights escorting you, her eyes narrowing. “You may leave.” She says simply, though in her tone is a murderous intent that is well honed. It wasn’t hard to believe she was Arcann’s sister.

        “Yes High Justice Vaylin.” The Knights replied, quickly turning and heading down another hall.

        Vaylin laughed, almost a giggle as she watched them leave. “Don’t let them scare you, they don’t do anything without Arcann’s command and he doesn’t want you dead. Not yet at least.” She smiled at you again before turning towards the doors. You followed, finding yourself in a room of glass. A single throne sat in the center, and atop it lounged Arcann.

        “Vaylin,” he said, sounding somewhat surprised by his sister’s presence.

        “Come on brother,” she said innocently, “you can’t just get a new toy and not tell me.” She glanced at you as you spoke. The danger of your situation was not lost on you, prompting you to remain quiet.

        Arcann nodded slowly before standing. “She will be instrumental in destroying the Outlander.”

        “Really?”

        “Yes. Can’t you sense it?”

        Vaylin looked pensive for a moment. “I can sense him yes, but I can still sense Father sometimes too. Power like theirs has that effect.” Arcann merely nodded in response and more questions were added to your ever-growing list. Vaylin’s eyes were on you again, examining you carefully. “What would the Outlander want with a girl like her? She’s too a bit young to be a lover . . .”

        “I’ve already told you,” your voice was harsh, “I’ve never seen the Outlander, I don’t know him!”

        Vaylin looked a little surprised by your outburst. “Brave little girl,” she mused, “but stupid. You can’t even imagine how many ways-”

        “Enough.” Arcann stood, his voice cool but forceful enough to make his sister stop talking. “Vaylin, leave us.”

        The brunette seemed surprised by his order, briefly glancing between you and the Emperor before stalking out of the room. You could have sworn you saw a look of anger on her face as she passed. However, your focus soon turned back to the metal-armed man who moved closer to you. “You should know that what I am offering you is a great mercy.” Your mind jumped to conclusions, something it seemed to be doing a lot recently. “You will remain with me on Zakuul, in the Spire. I will offer you my protection and you will swear your allegiance to me.”

        You were taken aback by this. You could only wonder why he would even consider something  like this, so you asked him.

        “Whether you believe it or not, you have a connection to the Outlander. I wish to find out the extent of that connection, which is something I cannot do if you are dead. Consider it the full extent of my mercy.”

        The notion might have seemed humorous were you not being threatened. “And once you find whatever ‘connection’ I have with him?”

        He paused, his exposed yellow eye meeting yours, its intensity still almost overwhelming. “We shall see.” You couldn’t help but notice some of the malice gone from his voice as he waved a hand and returned to his throne.

        Once again Zakuulan Knights came to your side to escort you out, though not before Arcann spoke up one final time. “See to it that she is comfortable.” The statement worried you a bit as you were marched through many more hallways of what you could only assume was the palace. At least it worried you until you came to a stop in front of a lavish room, almost as large as your entire home had been on your home world.

        Soon enough the Knights closed the door and left you on your own, and all  you could do was wander to the immense window on the far side of the room and squeeze the (F/C) crystal in your hand as you watched Zakuul’s sun paint the sky.


	6. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn more about the Outlander at the behest of Arcann. Meanwhile on Odessen, Valkorion warns his former Wrath of a looming threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said before, I'll be using an OC for the Outlander because without the Outlander Arcann really has no enemy or opposition. This isn't my canon Outlander in my game, but for this story I've gone with the Sith Warrior as the Outlander. Side-note, I'd love to hear about everyone's own Outlander's in the comments!

        Your eyes traveled the length of the walls that made up your new room, watching the light of Zakuul’s sun refract through the (F/C) crystal you held in your hand. The patches of color danced along the surfaces of the room, moving and bending shape as you twirled the rock.  

        It wasn’t until you hear footsteps from outside that you stopped.

        The door to your room slid open, allowing none other than the Emperor of Zakuul to walk in. You had come to know his posture as nothing short of regal and imposing, with a gaze that could pierce through durasteel. The anger in his eyes and the tension around him was the first thing that told you something had upset him.

        His exposed eye found you sitting on the edge of your bed immediately, a blaze of fire directed towards you. “Come with me.”

        You knew it wasn’t a request.

        -----

        You weren’t used to being the center of attention, which only made the few minutes of walking alongside the emperor of an alien world more uncomfortable. You could feel the eyes of everyone you passed turn to you, weighing down on you.

        When Arcann stopped in a room with screens that lined the walls and the door closed behind you, you breathed a momentary sigh of relief; strange as it was.

        “Tell me what you see.” Arcann commanded in a flat tone, his fiery eye glancing at the wall of moving pictures.

        You wouldn’t claim to have known the Emperor well by any means, but you knew him well enough to know that this was to be some sort of test. You also knew what might be at stake if you failed, so you slowly stepped closer to the nearest screen. It was a familiar image, one of chaos and destruction.

        People were running in all directions while fires blazed behind them. Your eyebrows pursed as you watched, seeing a red glow emerge from the flames. It soon became clear the cause was a pair of lightsabers, each the color of blood that were cutting down soldiers left and right. Their wielder moved like a predator, none escaping him whether they challenged him or not.

        You felt more than saw Arcann step up next to you, his own gaze fixed on the battle. “Do you know who this man is?” you glanced at him, seeing shadows of his anger which confirmed your suspicions.

        “The Outlander,” you breathed, a shadow of horror laced in your words. Even Arcann, for all his anger and power, had not been half as brutal as this man. Swords of green and blue rose up against him, and each of their owners were cut down without remorse. This was not what you had imagined when you’d heard the rumors of a Sith opposing the Eternal Empire.

        “He was known then as the Emperor’s Wrath.”

        You were too engrossed in watching the carnage to look at Arcann when he spoke, your eyes moving to the other screens. Some were of battlefields were armies clashed against each other in waves, others of city streets being torn apart but at the forefront of all of them was the Outlander, masked as though he were the hand of death itself.

        “Now, tell me what you see.” He commanded for the second time.

        You considered your answer carefully. In truth, Arcann had seemed no different when you had first seen him and he had done little to provide evidence to the contrary. In the end, you sided with the obvious. “War.”

        “Do not play ignorant with me.”

        “A murderer.” You tried, watching Arcann’s reaction out of the corner of your eye.

        He nodded and your nerves calmed a bit. “The Outlander is a rebel, an ally of terrorists and traitors. His most recent attack crippled the Spire, and it will not be his last. He will not do to Zakuul what he did to dozens of other civilizations.”

 _So that’s why he brought me here._ You breathed in slowly, glancing to the videos of destruction once again before nodding. “I understand that, but . . .”

        “What would you do to stop a man like this, (Y/N)?”

        Another test, you knew it, but it didn’t stop you from answering honestly. “He’s not the only man in the galaxy to have murdered innocents or destroyed worlds,” you stopped, realizing your words had been directed at him just as you realized you felt some guilt for it. Arcann was a man defending his people from a threat, his methods questionable but a defender all the same. “. . . But if I could stop him, I would.”

        He too paused, weighing your words. “And you will.”

        -----

        The thought that there was once a worry-free moment in Aeros’ life was nearly enough to make him laugh now, as he stared intently down at the schematics for the Spire he had obtained just days prior. He supposed he had given up any calm in his life the day he’d first stepped onto Korriban.

        It seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a way it was. After all, he was but an acolyte then, and now he commanded a force comprised of people who would otherwise tear at each other’s throats.

 _“Your fear about this mission is misplaced.”_ At the sound of the all too familiar voice, Aeros lowered his head.

        “Again you speak in riddles when I have no interest in hearing them.”

        The world around Aeros seemed to slow, a tall figure looming like a shadow over him. _“And again you chose not to see past your ignorance.”_ Valkorion’s words were barbed as they usually were, though perhaps more venomous than they had been previously. _“You already know the best course of action, but you let your ally’s opinions hinder you.”_

        “I value their council,” Aeros met the yellow eyes of the man who had devoured worlds, his voice never wavering, “and they might be able to see something I cannot.”

        Valkorion merely laughed. Damn, Aeros hated that laugh. _“You were chosen to become my Wrath for a reason. In your blood there lies power to rival even Arcann and Vaylin. Soon you will have to chose if you will harness it, or allow my son to destroy you.”_

        Aeros shook his head. “I shall listen to your council, Valkorion, but if I defeat Arcann it will be with my own strength.”

        The former Emperor looked pensive, strangely accepting of what the Sith said. It unnerved Aeros. _“Then I would advise you to be weary of your past. My son wields it as a weapon without precision.”_

        His last words still hanging in the air, Valkorion vanished and once again Aeros leaned against the holoprojector in the center of the room. There were too many possibilities of his past coming back to haunt him to count, ranging from old enemies to lost allies. Still, one possibility lurked in the back of his mind, a prospect that shook the Sith to his core.

 _No one knows of her existence._ He reassured himself, knowing he needed to focus on planning the attack ahead rather than possibilities.

        Still, a somber ghost of a smile tugged at Aeros’ lips. The thought of a worry-free moment was an amusing one indeed.


	7. Whispers in the Dark

        “You’re sure about this?” Vaylin mused from next to Arcann, the two of them waiting on one of the platforms above the dueling ring. So many times Arcann had looked up from the ring to where he stood now, at where his father had always stood. So many times he had hoped to see some semblance of pride in the man’s eyes. Each time he was met with nothing.

        Arcann nodded to his sister, keeping his own gaze fixed on the Knights preparing below him. “I have my suspicions about her, and I don’t have time to wait for answers.”

        Out of the corner of his eye, Arcann saw Vaylin’s lips purse. “Certainly the fast way to get answers, but one wrong move and those Knights might break our new toy.” A familiar feral grin replaced her former expression. “ _That_ would be something to watch, wouldn’t it?”

        Arcann ignored his sister’s words, having grown used to her twisted inclinations. He knew Vaylin would love to set the galaxy ablaze if only to watch it burn for a while.

        There was some small part of him that wanted that too, to see all his father’s work undone.

_No,_ he thought. Watching the Outlander burn would be enough for him.

\-----

        The Knights at your sides marching reminded you of the beating of a drum as they led you through the many spiraling corridors of the Spire’s palace, descending down the structure on elevators. All the while, not one of the Knights spoke to you. Still, there was an air of slight pity about them which only bolstered your own concern. You pulled nervously at the white and grey vestments you wore, the unfamiliar material fairly loose against your body. The strange garments had been the first sign that something was amiss when royal attendants had handed them to you this morning, and going this far down into the Spire was only confirming your suspicions.

        When the group finally stopped moving, you craned your head to see over the tall Knights in front of you, being greeted by sunlight spilling through translucent doors.

        Those doors parted as did the two Knights leading you, allowing you to see what lay beyond. What looked like an arena was laid out before you, framed by stairs that circled almost the entire area. The only exception was the balcony across from you where Arcann and his sister Vaylin stood.

        A sinking weight in your gut manifested as one of the Knights next to you motioned you forward. Your eyes quickly moved around the ring as you took one slow step after another, seeing several other Knights waiting in the sand of the arena. They were all armed.

        “(Y/N), step forward.” Arcann’s words were a sharp command.

        Thoughts of brutal executions sprang to life in your mind, only held at bay by Arcann’s last encounter with you. Still, you found it difficult to take those final few steps down to the sand of the ring.

        When your steps met with the grains on the ground of the training ring, time seemed to stop around you, everyone’s eyes on you. You looked up at Arcann, his gaze hardened as he watched you in return. The stillness was only broken when the Emperor’s gaze shifted and he nodded to one of the Knights.

        The man returned the gesture and stepped towards you, holding out a wooden staff, twin to the one he held in his other hand.

        You couldn’t help but stare at the weapon, knowing what was wanted of you but your body didn’t respond. Wide (E/C) eyes looked from the staff to the Knight holding it, frozen by the silent demand. The Knight stiffened his arm, and numbly you reached a hand up to take the weapon. You could swear you heard Vaylin giggle from her spot next to Arcann.

        As the Emperor spoke again, your grip around the staff tightened, anticipation rising in your throat.

        You didn’t even need to ask what it was he planned for you. “You will be tested today. These Knights were chosen to do so. They will attack you, and you will defend yourself.” Those words were like a shock of reality, the only thing in the last few minutes that you truly understood.

        Those words made something in you steel itself.

        If you were going to die today, you wouldn’t do so quivering in fear.

        “Begin.” The single word had you glaring at the Knight nearest you with such intensity that he would be a pile of ash if looks could kill. It made him hesitate, but only just before he swung his own weapon in an arc towards you.  

\-----

        Arcann’s brow furrowed as he watched the fighting pit beneath him. He had practically been raised in this arena, being taught to fight and to kill like he was born to do it. He supposed he was, in a way. (Y/N) was not.

        A kick to your chest sent you falling backwards and wheezing for air. He could see bruises forming over your exposed skin and he knew there were more covering your body. Arcann had lost count of how many times you had been taken down, how many blows you hadn’t blocked fast enough. He could see a storm of anger and defeat forming in your eyes as each time, without fail, you pushed yourself up from the sand and stood your ground.

        It had enraptured him, watching you. He could remember what it felt like to be faced with the impossible odds before him, to not be granted any mercy. That was why there was some part of him - however small - that wanted to order the Knights to stop. The thought was becoming louder and louder in his mind.

        You stared wide-eyed at the sky for a moment before narrowing your eyes and rolling over onto your hands and knees.

        Again, you rose and stared down the Knight who had landed the last blow against you. Despite the furious glare, Arcann could see the slack in your shoulders, the shadow of defeat looming over you.

        “Well this is getting boring.” Vaylin remarked as you desperately tried to fend off a barrage of attacks from several Knights before your staff was forced from your hand and thrown across the pit. The Knight seemed to be enjoying himself and swung his gauntleted hand backwards, sending you down to cough up blood in the sand.

        It wasn’t like him to take pity on anyone. That wasn’t how he had been raised, and it wouldn’t befit an Emperor. Still, he couldn’t help but think back to when he had been the one fighting the Knights. It had taken many years for him to perfect his fighting and he had probably only been able to survive it all because he wasn’t alone.

        He had no sooner opened his mouth to order the Knights to stop when he heard Vaylin unhook her lightsaber from her belt.

        Before Arcann could protest or command her to stop, Vaylin had lept down to the sand, igniting her weapon’s golden blade. “How can you expect her to learn if she doesn’t face real challenges?”

        “Vaylin!” Arcann growled, seeing your eyes widen in fear.

        “High Justice, we have orders-” one of the Knights - either incredibly brave or profoundly foolish -  moved between you and Vaylin. Arcann’s own eyes went wide when his sister swung her blade across the man’s neck, sending his head toppling to the sand.

        A wicked grin carved its way across Vaylin’s face as she turned her attention to you. Arcann didn’t know her intentions. He didn’t know how much harm she intended to bring to you, only that you probably would not walk away unscathed. Taking his own weapon in his hand, Arcann leapt from his place on the balcony, landing with his weapon ignited in the fighting pit.

        “Enough, Vaylin!” his sister slowly turned to face him, that smile never fading.

        “Don’t spoil all the fun, big brother.” She practically sang before turning back to the bruised girl.

        You looked briefly behind Vaylin to where your weapon lay, and Arcann could see the fight in your eyes beginning to give way. Somehow, Vaylin’s smile widened even more and she charged at (Y/N).

        Vaylin had no sooner raised her blade over your head when Arcann saw you close your eyes, a look of calm veiling your face. Vaylin stopped moving completely, suspended mid-air with her lightsaber hovering just inches away from you. It was as if the entire fighting ring was frozen too, watching in awe as the High Justice of Zakuul was stopped in her tracks.

        The Knights said nothing, shock rolling off them and proving what Arcann had wondered.

        Your eyes snapped open  once again and gone was the fear in them. In its place was an unmatched rage. An instant later Arcann was thrown back and landed hard against the sand, Vaylin and the Knights around them following.

        The Emperor rose quickly as he was trained to do, moving towards you. You looked more shocked than anything else as your gaze swept around the room. Your eyes settled on Arcann briefly before movement behind him drew your focus.

        Arcann turned just in time to see Vaylin, her eyes bright in a visceral joy, getting to her feet and charging once more.

        The sound of two lightsaber blades clashing filled the fighting pit as Arcann met his blade with hers. Vaylin looked surprised at first but then smiled. “What’s the point of getting a new toy if you can’t play with it?” She bared down on him with more force, though he knew she wouldn’t fully attack him. She had the power to have done so by now if that was what she wanted.

        Before he had to think of a response Vaylin backed away, deactivating her lightsaber and turning to leave. She passed you on her way out, smiling as she spoke. “Maybe next time.”

        Arcann watched his sister leave, a growing unrest in the back of his mind.

        Vaylin had changed much since her return from Nathema. Whatever their father had done to her there had unhinged her; she’d had no qualms about executing Knights for small mistakes . . . or even for being affiliated with those mistakes.

        Still, he didn’t focus on that.

        His focus was instead on the girl from some distant planet with the power to shape worlds.


	8. Master and Apprentice

Your muscles ached and your heart was pounding, but you were alive and Vaylin was gone. Considering all that could have happened, part of you thought you were one of the luckiest women in the galaxy.

        It wasn't a very large part of you, but still.

        You had been allowed to return to your room, escorted by Zakuulan Knights of course, but now you were alone and free to wonder what exactly had happened to you in that arena. So many times throughout your life you’d heard stories about the power of Jedi and Sith, of the great feats - and horrors - that they could accomplish. Their powers had made them near god-like in the minds of many on Onderon. You were trying to determine if discovering those powers in yourself was more astonishing or alarming.

        What were you capable of? How had you never known? How would things have been different if you had? Every question seemed to lead to another.

        Your isolation didn’t last long enough for you to solve many of the riddles.

        “(Y/N),” Arcann’s baritone voice pulled your focus, and you found the Emperor standing in the doorway. You would have expected Knights to escort you to the Throne Room, not for Arcann to see you here, alone. It seemed that your new abilities were very important to him.

        “Did you know?” you had to ask, even though you were fairly certain you knew the answer.

        “I had my suspicions.”

        It explained your time in the Arena, and the bruises that now covered your body. “And what does it mean?”

        The mask made it hard to read his expressions, but you could see confidence written on his face nonetheless. “You once said you would do everything in your power to stop a man like the Outlander. You have more power than you realized, and I will help you learn to use that power.”

        Your gaze shifted to the floor as you debated with yourself. You had never wanted to get involved in a war, and you knew that if you chose to accept Arcann’s training, you would inevitably have to fight. It might not be the Outlander, but all the same . . . still, you knew not many had a choice in war. How many of your people had died that night when the Eternal Empire came? How many Zakuulans had the Outlander killed? How many could be saved if the war was to end?

        “It won't be easy, will it?”

        “No.” The answer was simple, and something you expected. Still, as you had heard many times in your life, nothing worth doing ever was easy.

        Taking a deep breath in, you straightened your back and looked into the exposed, fiery eye of the Emperor of Zakuul. “When do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting everyone know - if they're interested - that I am adding a Darth Maul/Reader story to this series! It's long overdue, but I put up the first chapter last night! It will be following the same plot as the rest of works in this series, so if you're interested in the best Zabrak Sith of all time, give it a read!


	9. Trial and Error

        You dreamed of the Outlander that night, after you had used the Force in the arena. You dreamt of the spinning red of his twin lightsaber blades, and of the countless people who fell to them. His movements were like a calculated, lethal dance and the mask he wore to conceal his face only made him seem more monstrous.

        Barely even human.

        At first, the dreams were like the footage Arcann had showed you; the Sith tearing through enemies that you could seldom recognize. Soon though, you began to see things that you were more familiar with. Skytoopers were added now to the growing numbers of defeated. You knew the golden armor of Zakuulan Knights all too well as dozens of them went to their deaths. So many people rose up to fight and were cut down by the Outlander all the same.

        By the time it was over, even Vaylin lay dead atop the pile of bodies . . . and Arcann, his body torn by lightsaber wounds, was beside her.

        You weren't sure why, in the morning as you were escorted back down the Spire, you felt guilty.

        -----

        More bruises were added to your body in the next day alone. The Knights were still unafraid to harm you - though this time, they actually attempted to teach you how to defend yourself - and when you weren't quick enough or didn't anticipate a feint from them, another black and blue spot was added to the ever-growing collection.

        You were grateful that the Knights seemed more aware of your skill level, however. They didn't form a team against you as they had the day of the “test” and some part of you liked to believe that they might even want to help you. For more than just the sake of orders. Slowly, over the next few weeks, you even came to call some of them by name.

        Caixan was the Knight-Captain of the group, the harshest but also the most experienced. His advice saved you from much worse damage being done to you,  though you had a feeling that you weren't progressing fast enough for his liking.

        Then there was Junifel, a small but incredibly quick Knight who didn’t say much. At least, not to you. Her instructions were usually only one word, just enough to let you know what she wanted of you but never more. Counter to her was a huge man named Ricash. Though he wasn’t afraid to use his superior strength against you, he always would offer to help you up if he knocked you into the dirt.

        There were two other Knights, Vestere and Myr, though you did your best to avoid them. Vestere was beautiful, with pale hair and eyes that were always glaring at you, even when giving instructions. Myr was even more standoffish, though you were fairly certain that it wasn’t just you the scarred man was angry with, but the entire galaxy.

        Arcann was like a ghost to you for many days, appearing on the balcony to watch your training and then disappearing just as quickly. You weren't so foolish as to think that he had much time to spare as Emperor, but you couldn't deny that you felt almost discarded.

        Perhaps it was for the best . . .

        “(Y/N)!” Caixon’s voice and the whoosh of a training staff through the air were the only warnings you got as you realised how distracted you were. You only just barely caught the attack in time to prevent a blow to your head, but it knocked your own staff out of your hands and soon Vestere was pointing her weapon towards your throat. Her grey gaze was focused in its usual glare on you, and you could see Caixon shaking his head. “Stay focused.”

        You nodded, eying Vestere to make sure she didn’t try anything while your back was turned, and then went to pick up your own weapon. The wood was already beginning to wear and become softer where you usually gripped it, adding something of a familiarity it. Like it was your only friend.

        “Again.”

        Vestere swung hard and you moved to block, the shock of her attack rippling throughout your body. More attacks followed, chained so that as soon as one ended, another began. You were becoming better at fending off the Knights, but Vestere had been training for years and she was utterly ruthless.

        “Attack her, (Y/N). Do not let your enemy control the battle.” Caixan’s advisement was lost to the wind as you were pushed backwards by Vestere’s unrelenting barrage.

        By the time you managed to find a window for an attack, you were being thrown back by Vestere, her Force attack catching you off guard.

        The sand made a cloud as you rolled across it, gritting your teeth. You couldn't help but think of the Force as something of a cheap trick at this point, whether it had saved you from Vaylin or not.

        You weren't sure what you had done to gain Vestere's hatred, but she seemed intent on punishing you simply for existing. All the same, if Vestere wanted to play dirty, you weren't above matching her. “Are you getting back up? Or not?” The young woman's voice made you bristle and you saw Ricash shoot her a disapproving look, though she didn't notice it.

        A small laugh escaped you, and you - with more smugness than you meant - replied. “I can do this all day.”

        You stood again, about to assume a fighting stance when Vestere launched herself at you, bringing her staff up and over her head like it was an executioner’s axe. You raised your own to block, and caught the brunt of the attack in the middle of your weapon.

        “Then prove it.” She brought even more strength down on you now, and each time you blocked or dodged a swing, you couldn't help but feel like you were evading death.

        Your arms were burning from the effort it took to defend against her, and you could vaguely hear Caixan calling out to you. Good advice, you were sure, if you were focused on anything other than defending yourself from the young Knight of Zakuul in front of you. A burst of pain spreading from your arm finally broke your focus, as Vestere finally moved too quickly for you to match.

        A hiss escaped you as you backed away, a hand moving to press against the welt forming, hoping to stop the deep pain that went to the bone. The only thing that stopped your motion was seeing a familiar flash of white standing apart from the other Knights in the arena.

        Arcann had his robotic arm crossed over his flesh one on his chest as he watched you. His brow was furrowed in an expression that wasn’t readable to you in the instant you had to look at him. But he was here, he was in the ring with you and if Vestere thought to harm you the way Vaylin tried to . . .

        Any time you had to think about it was cut short as Vestere moved, her staff moving in a high arc yet again that you had little time to catch. You could remember raising your own weapon to block and the sound the two made as they collided. But the next part was a blur as splinters flew through the air and you barely moved away in time to avoid taking the brunt of Vestere’s attack.

        By the time you looked down at your training staff, it was in two pieces in either of your hands. The shock was enough to stall you, leaving Vestere an opening to kick you hard in the chest, sending you backwards into the sand yet again.

        You were wheezing this time as you tried to get up, and you could see Vestere pacing back and forth a ways away from you. Her smirk made her less beautiful, you realized, as you noted the look of pride she wore.

        There was a still moment in the training ring then, one in which you felt like you could see everything. You saw Ricash and Junifel muttering something to each other, and Caixan watching you intently. You saw Myr moving to get a replacement for your broken weapon and you saw Arcann standing with his arms still crossed.

        But mostly, you saw the look of surprise on Vestere’s face as you pushed off of the sand and sprinted towards her.

        She blocked your first swing with ease, but the attack with the second half of the staff was more difficult for her. Not keen on losing the edge you’d been given, you pressed the attack. You swung time and time again as she had, spinning your new weapons like it was a mad dance.

        You felt her staff make contact with your skin a few times, but you landed hits too. Certainly she still had the upper hand of experience and the greater skill that came with it, but you had her underestimation on your side.

        Suddenly more confident, when you saw the opportunity, you held your arms out in front of you and felt a surge flow through you, like you had become part of the air in front of you and were barreling forward. Then you saw Vestere go flying, hitting the wall behind her and then falling to the floor.

        A smile might have broke across your face were it not for the surprise at what you’d just done. Vestere pushed herself up off the ground and you thought for a moment that she might pin you to the other wall for good measure, but Arcann’s voice ended that thought. “Well done.” Another wave of surprise hit you as you turned to look at the Emperor. You had never expected praise from him, but then none of this had been included in your wildest dreams not too long ago. “Leave us.”

        The command prompted each of the Knights to bow, with Ricash sending you a reassuring smile and even earning looks of approval from Myr and Caixon. Vestere brushed sand from her uniform as she passed, stopping briefly to meet your eyes. Her steel gaze had not lost any of its edge, but her voice sounded vaguely genuine as she muttered, “Well fought,” to you before she joined the others.

        And then you and Arcann were alone.

        “They are training you well, I see.” He mused, his exposed eyebrow still furrowed.

        You could only nod, confused by the conversation. “As well as they can train someone like me, I guess.”

        “And you seem to have a natural talent for two blades.” He gestured towards the two broken halves still in your hands. You couldn’t help but study him in confusion. He hadn’t shown a great interest in your training until now, had he? And yet he had defended you against his sister . . . “That is a difficult style to master. And they are teaching you nothing of using the Force with your fighting.”

        You had no sooner began to ask him  what he meant then he was speaking again.

        “I will teach you that much, if Caixon will not.”

        For a moment, you just stared at the Emperor. You hadn’t expected him to invest this much interest in you in the first place, let alone offer to train you himself. You had expected to be a captive and nothing more.

        So you couldn’t help but smile a little at his words. “I’m sure Caixan will appreciate it if I actually know what I’m doing.”

        For a fleeting moment, you almost heard a bit of amusement in Arcann’s voice. “Yes, I’m sure he will.”

 


	10. A Matter of Trust

_“That makes her a terrorist, not an ally . . .”_

_“. . . and she’s connected with the populace, she’s worth investigating.” The voice belonged to a woman, that much you knew. Light and accented and unrecognizable to you._

_“All right. We’ll make contact.” This one was more familiar, somehow. Like a distinct voice you’d heard in a crowd. It carried an accent too, but it belonged to a man and was much harsher. You wished that you could put a name to the face, but all you saw was darkness._

_Out of nowhere, there was a burst of flame, hot enough that you could feel the heat brush against your face. You saw pale skin and tattoos, an angry smile, and then nothing._

        -----

        “Well done, (Y/N),” your chest rose and fell violently from the exertion, but you had defended yourself against Myr, and the scarred man had shown no mercy. Even better, you’d only taken minor hits, fighting him to a stalemate.

        Both you and the scarred Knight lowered your weapons at Caixan’s words, and turned to see him almost smiling at you. That was fairly new ground for you; receiving approval.

        Today was a quiet day in the training ring, with Junifel, Vestere and Ricash were out on some mission for the Throne - or so you assumed - and only Myr and Caixan remained for your training. It suited you well enough, at least Myr wasn’t openly gunning for you as Vestere was, even though you did miss Ricash’s subtle quips.

        “That's enough for today. Go get some rest, both of you.” Caixan ordered.

        Myr nodded to you before storming away, staff in hand. The action struck you as a morose move even for him, opening up more queries for you.

        Not that Myr would be the one to give you any answers, anyway.

        You spun the halves of your staff in your hands, glad that Caixan had let you keep them after Vestere split the original staff in two. They suited you much better than anything else you’d tried, though the coincidence was not lost on you. Arcann had looked at you strangely when you’d been able to do so well with a twin-blade style, and you knew it was because the Outlander used the same method.

        Just more proof of a “connection” to him, you supposed, though Arcann hadn’t voiced as much.

        The thought of him made you more aware of his absence, as you looked around the dueling ring. Caixan and Myr were already almost gone, and Arcann who would usually meet you here after your training with the Knights was complete was nowhere to be found.

        “Caixan,” you called out to him, making both him and Myr turn towards you, “do you, uh, do you know where Emperor Arcann is?”

        The Knight-Captain had only just opened his mouth to reply when another  voice answered for him; one that could send chills up your spine. “Arcann is upset that he’s losing the game of hide and seek the Outlander is playing.” Vaylin didn’t have to shove her way between Caixan and Myr to get to the dueling ring, as the two Knights moved aside for her with a reverent speed.

        Her yellow eyes were still full of a twisted joy, though she was different today than she had been the day she’d attacked you. She seemed almost satiated, perhaps meaning some safety for you. You just hoped it hadn’t meant the opposite for someone else.

        “Big brother is busy dealing with all the explosions going on down in the Spire, he won’t be playing with you today.”

        You knew your eyes widened at the news, and you could see both Myr and Caixan darken in their expressions. The Outlander was here? In the Spire?

        “How bad is it?” you asked, not wanting to speak to Vaylin longer than you had to, but you had come to care about Zakuul in some way, despite having been confined mostly to the palace.

        Vaylin sighed, like it annoyed her to think about it. “He shut our droids down, freed a few criminals and killed some of our people.” Her yellow gaze fell on your twin training weapons. “I bet you could re-create the footage if I showed it to you.”

        You bristled at the comment. You were nothing like the Outlander, fighting style aside.

        Vaylin just smiled before leaving. Even though he did an admirable job hiding it, you saw Caixan relax a bit as the High Justice left. His tension, however, wasn’t the only thing that fell once she was gone; he quickly frowned at the ground. _This is the first he’s hearing of the attack,_ you realized. You looked to Myr, whose eyes were unfocused and deep in thought.

        “Caixan,” you chanced an interjection, “I’m sorry.”

        The Knight Captain shook his head. “It’s not as bad as it could have been. At least, if what High Justice Vaylin says is true and no more.”

        “Not as bad as his first time in the Spire.” Myr didn’t speak to you often, so it surprised you when he did. But from the angry expression he wore, you could tell that he was speaking from experience. It didn’t take much guessing to know that something had happened to him that day, and the deep scars he wore narrowed it down.

        As much as you wanted to press the conversation further, you could see that Myr didn’t want to talk about it. Not to mention, another thought occured to you. “What about Ricash and the rest of them? Are they alright?”

        “I don’t know,” Caixan admitted, “under normal circumstances, we would be down there with them on a regular patrol.” There was a sting of guilt, given that you had kept him from being with his team when they were in danger. But there was something else too, like something in the back of your mind was pulling at strings you couldn’t quite see, making connections. The dream from last night came back to you, and worry came with it. “They’re among the best Knights in all of Zakuul,” Caixan redirected your focus, “if anyone could survive the Outlander, it’s them.”

        You nodded, hoping it was true. Even of Vestere, whether she deserved it or not.

        Caixan waved for Myr to follow him as he left the dueling ring, leaving you alone in the sand, your thoughts lingering on the possibilities of the Outlander’s attack.

        -----

        Arcann felt many things as he closed the briefing from his Knight in the field about the latest attack. Anger and rage were certainly at the forefront, as they always were with anything concerning the Outlander. The Knights had failed him, they had let the Outlander into the Spire yet again, let him walk among Arcann’s people unchallenged.

        Even the people had not reported him, no one seemed to know that he was there.

_He_ had not known that he was there.

        And Valkorion had been with him, his own father so desperate to dethrone him that he was using another to do it. Arcann clenched his fist tightly, the metal of his prosthetic left hand grinding against itself. The first day he had met the Outlander, his father had offered him a place at his side, without hesitation at all, but it had taken Arcann years to even year a glance from his father.

        It had cost him everything . . .

        “Arcann,” he breathed in sharply at hearing her voice, whirling around to see you standing at the entrance to his chambers. You must have just come from training, if the dirt you were covered in was any indication, but you didn’t seem tired. If anything, you seemed concerned.

        “What are you doing here?” he stood from his spot in the lounge, still holding the datapad with the report of the attack.

        “I heard about the attack.” You were hesitant, but he could sense some determination. “I want to help the Knights find the Outlander.”

        “You are not ready-”

        “I _am_. At least for smaller missions, I know it.”

        He had come to know by now that once that look in your eye appeared, the one of hard focus, there would be no dissuading you from your stance on something. All the same, he didn’t agree with your staunch belief. “You have been doing well but war is different than a training yard. This is not open for debate.”

        You stepped closer, “Arcann, please, this is what you’ve been training me for! Let me help you-”

        “I said _no_.” His words carried a hard edge, but it was enough to give you pause.

        You considered them for a moment, your eyes locked on his exposed one like you were searching for something within them. “Why?” It was a simple question, but even he had to admit that he wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. You were, after all, able to be bait with or without training. His experiment that first day in the training arena had been solely to see if you could wield the Force, and he had planned to end things there when you displayed the ability.

        Instead, he’d seen the shere defiance in your gaze, even when Vaylin had charged for you.

_Thexan_ , he had thought it several times since that day, _you remind me of Thexan._ His twin brother had always been the unwavering one, always so composed even when he faced impossible odds. And now, here you were, asking to risk your own life to aid his Knights and his Empire. Asking to help _him_. It was unmistakably something that Thexan would do.

        Admitting it, however, was not something he was ready to do. “Because you are not ready.” His voice was softer now, a tone that was so rarely used by him anymore that it felt foreign. “The attack today targeted the very way my people live. A terrorist is not something you’ve been trained to deal with.”

        Arcann saw your eyes glint, like you just realized something. “A terrorist?” It sounded as though you were asking for information, so Arcann moved to grab the datapad, the report still lying open on the screen.

        “She’s taken the name Firebrand.” He watched you examine the text before moving on to the video surveillance sent to him. Small images of the Outlander storming the Overwatch Tower popped up, showing the twin red blades of the masked Sith cutting through those who had failed to protect the tower. _That_ , wasn’t what seemed to catch your attention, however. “What is it?” Arcann asked as you stared at an image of Firebrand firing her rifle.

        “I . . .” you narrowed your eyes for a moment as you looked at the pale Rattataki woman, “I had a dream about her.”

        Arcann furrowed his brows, his interest piqued. “Explain.”

        “Last night. I can’t remember much. It was just voices at first talking about someone. They were saying that she was a terrorist but that she was worth investigating. Then, I saw her. It was just a flash really, but it was her. I remember the tattoos.”

        “You had a vision about the attack before it happened . . .” Arcann realized, though that was not where his thought process stopped. He had never stopped feeling the link between you and the Outlander, however faint it was. Having visions about him and his plans served as further proof of the connection. But more than that, it provided an opportunity. If you could see attacks before they happened, if you could discover the Outlander’s plans, Arcann would not need to use you for bait. He could outmaneuver the Outlander himself. That was more of a relief to him than he would admit. “You can help. Whenever you have one of these dreams, tell me. Everything you can remember.”

        You didn’t seem to be satisfied with the request, but you also seemed to know that you weren’t going to be receiving a better offer. “Alright.” You turned away from him and for a moment, Arcann thought you were going to leave. Instead, you stopped just before going through the door. “Arcann, I’m willing to get hurt if it means stopping him. Just . . . just remember that.”

        When you were gone, Arcann lowered his gaze. He thought of Thexan often, far too often for his own liking, it was almost too ironic that a girl with the same heart as his twin would be connected to the Outlander. Still, he could not deny that he enjoyed being around you because of it.

        His scared jaw tightened at the thought.

        Had his father found a way to do this to him? If the Outlander carried his spirit, then Valkorion might have found a way to link him to another life force, and his father would no doubt toy with his guilt to try and make him slip up.

        But whether it was coincidence or a plot from his father, Arcann found that he didn’t much care. He would do everything in his power to ensure that no harm came to you.


	11. Into the Fray

        You were growing used to seeing destruction and its aftermath. Such was war, you supposed. But you had to admit, seeing buildings torn down to rubble was a very different experience than seeing people barely clinging to life.

        Nearly all of the rooms in the hospital you stood in were in use following the Outlander’s attack and the staff was rushing to accommodate everyone. All you, Caixan and Myr could do was remain out of the way while doctors and droids bustled around you. Zakuul had medical technology far beyond anything you had seen back home, patching up most of the minor injuries you saw within moments. The grievous wounds suffered by the Knights were not so easily healed.

        You had been worried when Ricash, Junifel and Vestere had not returned to train you the day after the attack, and you thought that you would have been prepared for seeing them like this.

        Junifel, who had taken the some shrapnel in an explosion, had gotten the least of it with injuries in her leg and side. She was sitting up, at least, a pained look on her face as a droid worked on mending her wounds. Vestere and Ricash were both out cold, several deep lacerations cutting through their armor. You looked to Caixan, seeing the anger written across the Knight-Captain’s face.

        “Caixan,” you tried, not sure of what to say, “the Outlander’s going to pay for this, I promise.” It wasn’t much but you did intend to make good on the oath.

        He shook his head as he replied. “Justice for the Outlander will have to wait.” You could see guilt in his eyes, and you didn’t need to ask why he might feel that way. You yourself felt guilt for keeping him and Myr occupied so they couldn’t help their team. You could only imagine what Caixan must have been feeling, seeing those under his command like this.

  “Knight-Captain,” at the voice, you, Caixan and Myr all turned to see a young woman dressed in a Zakuulan officer’s uniform standing before you. Her words were directed at Caixan, however. “Emperor Arcann wishes to speak with you in the throne room.”

        Giving a curt nod, Caixan gave one last look over to his Knights before motioning for Myr to follow him. You went to follow for a moment, before deciding against it. Instead, you made your way around the busy staff and towards Junifel.

        The petite Knight watched you walk over to her, quiet as ever. Her dark skin, normally flawless, was covered in scabs and grime. “Are you going to be alright?”

        “I will be fine.” You knew by now that she wasn’t _trying_ to be rude, she was simply a woman of few words. Her eyes let you know that she appreciated you checking up on her, even if her response indicated otherwise. You could also see that she was worried about her comrades.

        “They’ll get better. I know Vestere wouldn’t miss the chance to smack me around the training ring.” You tried to joke, earning you a surprise smirk from Junifel, before her expression turned serious again.

        “They’d better.” Again her words did not find the biting edge she was hoping for.

        “The Outlander,” you began, intent on finding some way to help - through more than just visions, “is there any way we could predict his attacks before they happen? He's done this a few times now,  right?”

        Junifel looked like she was wrestling with something, debating. “It . . .” she seemed to make up her mind, “it wasn’t the Outlander that attacked us.”

        -----

        Caixan did not return to train you that day, after your visit to the other Knights. Myr apparently had gone with him, wherever he was, and Arcann still had much to deal with following the attack.

        Or attacks, as the case may be.

        You’d used your free afternoon to sift through the footage Junifel had given you. There had been another Sith in the Spire when the Outlander had launched the assault on Overwatch. He had been hiding in the city, from what Junifel had told you, waiting for the perfect moment, and had gone straight for the palace when he’d been given the chance. It was shere luck that Caixan’s Knights had been able to intercept him and stop him.

    Watching the footage was more difficult than you’d thought. You wouldn’t go so far as to call the Knights your friends, but you had spent so long with them - _trained_ with them - that seeing them fall was more than a little distressing.

        The Sith in question was equally worrying. He might have been easy to mistake for the Outlander, given the mask and armor he wore. The most clear difference was his weapon. Rather than the two that the Outlander favored, this man wielded a single double-bladed lightsaber with wicked speed. Despite their greater numbers, the Knights had been ambushed and were only barely able to drive the Sith away.  

        The next day you entered the training arena, practice weapons in hand, only to find Myr standing there, alone. “No training today, (Y/N).” He said simply, his good, unscarred eye narrowed as if in thought.

        “What do you mean?” you couldn’t help but ask.

        “The Emperor has ordered us to track down the Sith that attacked the rest of the Knights.”

        You shook your head. “But only you and Caixan are left!”

        He didn’t seem to appreciate your concern very much, and he responded fairly softly, considering. “Junifel can join the fight soon enough, and orders are orders.” That seemed to be all he wanted to have in terms of a conversation, as he started walking towards the exit into the rest of the palace. “We’ll be back soon.” It was gruff and a lacking reassurance.

        One that sent you marching towards Arcann’s throne room.

        It occured to you, as you stalked between rows on Knights, that this scenario would have been unthinkable to you just months ago; you never imagined yourself marching up to Arcann’s throne and standing there, waiting for an audience. But then again, you were a bit angry and you decided to show it.

        Arcann watched you from the moment you walked into the room, clearly surprised at what he was seeing. A hologram detailing several ships hung in the air around him, but luckily he didn’t seem to have anyone else to deal with at present.

        “Leave us,” he told his Knights, and after a moment’s hesitation, they obliged him. When they were gone, Arcann stood from the Throne and made his way to you. “This is about Caixan’s Knights, isn’t it?”

       His observation, while correct, didn’t make your mood improve. He’d known you would likely be upset by his orders. You knew that your opinions didn’t matter; there was a war going on and Arcann needed to win it. All the same, it bothered you more than you would like to admit. “Arcann, they’re down to less than half of their squad, sending them after that Sith would be a suicide mission.”

        The emperor shook his head. “The decision has been made, (Y/N). The Sith’s ship was tracked to Athiss but he may not stay there long. If he isn’t dealt with now, we will have lost our opportunity.”

        You nodded. He was right, but that didn’t mean that you were wrong. You wanted to ask him if you could go with them, even if it just meant staying on their ship and keeping a lookout for them. _Anything_. But you knew what his answer would be; he had already given it to you when you last asked to help. “There’s no one else?”

        The look Arcann gave you answered for him, even despite his mask. “Caixan’s Knights are skilled and loyal. They leave tomorrow.” You could feel the emotion rolling off of him. He wanted you here, safe. A lump formed in your throat at the realization, unable to speak though your thoughts were clear. There would be no changing his mind.

        Just like there would be no changing yours.

        -----

 It was early morning when Caixan led his Knights through the Emperor’s Palace. The sun shone through the buildings of the Spire, bathing the group in golden light. Myr had his helmet on, while Junifel kept hers off. She ‘wanted the Sith to see her face’ when they faced him, a bit of vengeance for her hospitalized comrades.

        Caixan understood that desire, even if he didn’t condone it. He was angry too, after all.

        It would be a quick mission, if everything went right. The Sith had left a very deliberate trail for them to follow, and now they were headed to Athiss. It was a trap, that much was beyond dispute. Still, none of that mattered. They had been given orders, and Caixan would hunt the enemies of the Eternal Empire to the ends of the galaxy if he had to.

        The shuttle launch pad, despite it being early morning, was already bustling. Mechanics and dock workers were scrambling to outfit ships with the necessary resources for missions, while other Knights boarded them.

        Waiting just down the pad was the shuttle that would take them to Athiss sat ready, workers finishing up the last checkups before a mission. They likely wouldn’t have a problem landing on Athiss; few inhabited the planet and the Sith’s trail led to a documented but abandoned complex. It would be what followed the landing that would be difficult.

        As the group boarded the transport, Caixan’s mind was occupied solely on the task at hand. He was thinking through every scenario they might encounter, thinking of ways that would keep his team alive.

        His team was equally focused, their thoughts on revenge or the mission. They were solemn, thinking too far into the future to notice their surroundings.

        Too preoccupied to have noticed one of the technicians slip into the cargo hold during the check-ups, clutching a (F/C) crystal tightly in her hand.

**\-----**

        You had never been to - or even heard of - Athiss before. Imagining what the Sith world might look like proved to be a good way to distract yourself from your situation. After all, it was far easier on your nerves to wonder what kind of trees Athiss had than to wonder what the Sith had in store for you. From your spot in the small cargo space, you imagined Athiss being a dark, dreadful world steeped in shadow. It fit the description of the man hiding there well enough.

     Sitting in the dark, feeling the intense emotions emanating from Caixan, Myr and Junifel, you found it harder and harder to keep your mind off of the Sith waiting for you. Arcann was right; this would be nothing like training in an enclosed arena. You weren’t a fool. You were likely throwing yourself into a situation that you likely wouldn’t escape unscathed. If you came out alive, that is.

        Knowing all that, you found it strange that you were resolute in your choice. Terrified out of your mind, but sure in what you were doing. If you could stop them from being hurt or killed, it was worth the price. You felt as though you owed them that much.

        Caixan had been hard on you, but he pulled you up out of the dirt when you fell. Myr may have rarely spoken to you, but he was watchful over you in his own grizzled way. Junifel was quiet too, but warm. And besides that, you felt like you were finally able to help Arcann the way you wanted, regardless of how furious he was with you.

        Because at the end of the day, you never thought your life would amount to anything. You thought that you would barely scrape by, living day to day and never leaving a mark on anyone, anywhere.

        You appreciated being able to do something that mattered.

        A voice, muffled by the sheets of metal between you and its owner, pulled your attention back to reality. It must have been the pilot, because you didn’t recognize it. “Sir, we’re approaching Athiss.” You could almost feel the ship going out of lightspeed, maybe because your heart almost stopped with it.

        “Take us down then. Stay low and land in the trees, they’ll cover our approach.” That voice was Caixan’s. Taking the chance to stretch out your stiff limbs (as much as the limited space would allow), you took a few calming breaths.

        This was it. This was-

        The sound of metal screeching across metal and a sudden light in your eyes gave you pause.  

        “ _What are you doing here_?” Your eyes adjusted, and you saw a massive figure looming over you, long scars running across his face. So Myr had been the one to find you. _Damn_ , you thought, though you supposed you were lucky to have remained undiscovered for this long. Frankly, it was a miracle you had managed to get past the guard stationed by the door to your room.

        Straightening yourself and looking around, you saw the three Knights looking at you with varying degrees of anger. “I came to help,” you said, your voice stronger than you expected.

        You could have sworn you say Myr smile at your brashness. Caixan, on the other hand, was quick to push his way towards you. “Out of the question.” He turned towards the pilot, opening his mouth like he was about to say something. You imagined that he was about to order him to turn around, to take you back to Zakuul.

        You gave voice to the counter-argument, even though you were fairly sure he’d already thought of it. “If you leave now, you’ll lose him.” Caixan glared at you, worse than anything Junifel - or even Vaylin - had ever shot your way. “I can hold my own against all of you in a fight, and you’re down two. Let me help you.”

        Even with your reasoning, Caixan was quick to shake his head. “You will stay here.”

        “But I-”

        “ _That is an order._ ” He left you no room for debate. He stared you down for a moment, daring you to make a move. When you didn’t, he turned and put his helmet on. “We’re moving out as soon as we make landfall.”

  Feeling deflated, all you could do was watch from the back as the surface of Athiss came into view. You marveled at the world for a moment, realizing how wrong you had been with your predictions. Mountains passed beneath the shuttle, off-red in color. Trees of green and burning orange shot up where there was soil to allow them.

        Despite all the bright colors and sunlight, there was undoubtedly something that felt wrong about the planet. It was almost how you felt when you felt Vaylin staring at you the predatory way she would. This just . . . felt older.

        Once the shuttle touched down on the surface, you felt everyone tense a bit. “We move fast and quiet. Stay close to me and stay vigilant.” You had heard Caixan speak in a commanding tone before, but never quite like this. Then again, you had never been in anything this real before. “And you,” he whirled on you again, his face covered by his helmet, “stay here.”

        You shook your head. “Like hell I will,” you were grateful that you couldn’t see his face;you didn’t want to see the glare he was no doubt giving you. “I can help, and I won’t just stand by while you risk your lives-” you were so busy trying to justify your actions, you barely noticed someone taking your wrists and cuffing them until it was too late. Trying to move your arms and failing was enough to stop your tirade, though it didn’t make you any calmer.

        Whirling around, you found Junifel standing there wearing a look of - _almost_ \- regret. She always was the quietest of the group, but you couldn’t believe you didn’t notice her. “It’s for the best, (Y/N).” She turned her attention to the pilot. “Tell Emperor Arcann she’s here, he’ll want to know.” She said before grabbing her lightsaber pike again and joining her team.

        As you tried to follow them, the pilot came to your side and grabbed your forearm, leading you back into the shuttle. He gave you a look that rang of pity before effectively forcing you to sit down.

        You suspected that he was fastening your restraints to something, and finding your movement even more restricted when you tried to move confirmed it. All you could do was watch him move back to the pilot’s chair while the Knights disappeared among the trees.

 -----

  Arcann didn’t need the call from Caixan’s pilot; he already knew where you were. When the Knight posted outside your door had failed to report in, he had gone down to make sure that you were still there. He had been surprised to find the Knight knocked out cold, slumped against the wall of your room.

        He knew, in that moment, where you had gone.

        “Ready my ship.”

        He stormed past his Knights, his advisers,  _his sister_. All the while, he could only think that he would not lose you too. 

 -----

  Sith ruins were nothing new to Junifel. While she hadn’t been part of the incursion to Korriban all those years ago, she had patrolled in the Sith Empire, stomping out rebellions that had arisen when Arcann first took control. There was a common theme of oppression among most of them, of the Sith’s desperate need to subjugate others to their will. From the statues to the ancient carvings, it was a clear goal of the Sith to rule over all.

        The need to bring the unwilling to heel.

        This particular temple was no different, and Junifel could feel its oppressive power through crushing down on her. But there was something else too, like an itch in her skull that wouldn’t stop.

        That, and her leg was bothering her.

        Each step she took added a little to the pain, her injury not fully healed and screaming in protestation. Still, Junifel pressed on regardless. They had to be getting close now. The atrium they stood in branched off into several other rooms, each full of shadows. Each a good place for a Sith Assassin to hide.

        Junifel herself preferred surprise attacks when in combat, so the situation she was in now unnerved her. It was a strange feeling, being the hunted instead of the hunter.

        Taking another step, the petite Knight winced as pain shot up through her leg. _By Scyva,_ she might have hissed the words were she not so focused on keeping her words behind her teeth, _it had to be now, of all times._

        Zakuulan medicine was more than capable of treating a leg injury. It was strange, she had passed every physical and was no stranger to wounds from battle by this time in her career. And yet, at present, it felt like the shrapnel that had torn into her leg was still there,

        She didn’t realize that she’d stopped moving until Caixan called out to her. Looking up, her two comrades had already passed through the threshold that led to the room ahead. “I’m alright,” she lied, though she knew he could see through it. That was the disadvantage of leaving her helmet behind.

        The Knight Captain was about to make his way to her, taking no more than a few steps before both he and Myr were knocked off their feet and thrown backwards. Junifel saw the two fly through the air before colliding with the back wall. With force enough to shake the earth, an ancient door slammed down, trapping them inside.

        Junifel whirled around, the blue blade at the end of her saber pike ignited and bathing the room in light. And standing across from her like a shadow was an all too familiar man, his teeth bared in a snarl, red eyes alight with joy. “I was hoping I might get to dance with you.”


	12. Trial by Fire

        There wasn’t much more than static over the pilot’s comm unit, but you didn’t need Caixan’s words to let you know that the Knights were in trouble. You had never felt the Force as amplified as it was on Athiss, and through it you could feel panic in the air like you yourself were experiencing it.

        The cuffs around your wrists only made it worse.

        You struggled against the metal as you had since Caixan had left, and just as all the times before it didn’t budge. But there was more than one way to start a fire, there had to be more than one way out of the cuffs you’d been put in.

        Your gaze moved to the pilot, seeing the man activating his own holo. Calling to report the situation no doubt. Arcann was already on his way, you knew, but you doubted that he would reach Athiss in time. Still, the pilot was distracted and that was all you needed.

        Closing your eyes, you reached out with the Force, feeling around for the locks that held the bindings together. You weren’t sure if you would ever get used to the sensation of seeing without your eyes, but then you didn’t need to be used to it. You only needed it to work and sure enough, you felt the locking mechanism as though it were laid out in front of you.

        You had never used the Force for something so intricate, but you figured it was the same basic principle as moving a larger object.

        Easier said than done, you soon realized. You gritted your teeth, your brow furrowing as you focused in on pulling the lock apart. You could feel the gears turning slowly, clicking together as you moved them. Not daring to breathe, your vision went out of focus as you forgot the rest of the world around you. As the shuttle's interior blurred, the feeling of the lock became clearer.

        There was a sudden _click_ that brought you out of the trance-like state, and your eyes widened as you felt the restraints release.

        Then you were running as fast as your legs would carry you.

        -----

        Between the shrapnel injury, the new lightsaber gashes and whatever sorcery her Sith opponent was using, Junifel could never remember feeling so tired. Any energy she had at the beginning of the fight was long gone now, vanishing just as the Sith favored doing. And the smug bastard _did_ enjoy reminding her of it.

        “You’re looking tired,” he mocked, the red light of his double-bladed lightsaber reminding Junifel of blood. She hated the idea of this being the last thing she ever saw, but she supposed that few were ever able to choose their deaths.

        She would not dignify him with a response, nor would she go down without a fight. The lunge she made at him was weak, but surprising enough to catch him off guard momentarily. Her following attack was not as successful, however, as the Sith dodged out of the way. It was the retribution for her attack that she was unprepared for, the Sith swinging his blade in a flourish as he blocked her own.

        Were she at her full strength, had she not allowed herself to be blindsided by this man, she might have been able to evade the Sith's blade. The burning pain that came with the lightsaber being driven into her abdomen was a sharp reminder of the reality she was in.

        Junifel's mouth gaped open, her saberstaff falling from her grip and clattering to the floor. The Knight of Zakuul followed as the Sith deactivated his own weapon, the shock of what was happening beginning to sink in. The Sith loomed over her, studying her carefully as he circled her.

        “You Knights, so quick to abide your Emperor and even quicker to fall.” He might have sneered the words before, but now he spike only with anger. Junifel stared back I at him in defiance. “I will kill your Emperor one day for what he did to my family, I promise you that. For now, though, you will have to do.”

        Choosing again not to let the man gode her into speaking, into giving him any part of her, Junifel kept her gaze fixed in a glare at the Sith. He met her fire with his own, raising his weapon. Junifel steeled herself, ready to meet death at last.

        Then she heard the _snap-hiss_ of a lightsaber, and watched as the Sith was thrown across the ancient room. Surprise momentarily took precedence over pain, and Junifel turned her head to see the outline of a young woman standing there, the blue of Junifel's saberstaff casting a pale light over her determined eyes.

        -----

        You could not explain why you felt so little fear. Perhaps it was the humming of Junifel's lightsaber, or the fact that you had blindsighted the Sith Assassin. Either way, you watched with a grim confidence as your opponent picked himself up off of the floor.

        “A friend of yours?” He inquired to Junifel with no small amount of arrogance.

        You were in no mood for such things. Not when Junifel lay dying on the stones in front of you and neither Caixan nor Myr were at her side. So rather than indulge this monster, you charged.

        Though you much prefered wielding twin weapons, you would fight with what you were given. When your borrowed blade clashed with the red one belonging to the Sith, you were quick to recover and attack again, not wanting to waste the element of surprise.

        Your first swings were measured, planned. The Sith even looked surprised at this turn of events. You were equally surprised, you supposed.

        Keeping the Sith cornered against the wall was not something you could keep up forever, you knew, so you pressed the offensive. Blue light arced with each of your movements as you spun the saberstaff around your body, finally halting when you locked blades with the Sith.

        The pause let you truly look at him for the first time, and he analysed you in return. He wore no mask now, leaving nothing to hide his expression. You saw red eyes filled with rage, then amusement. “You are impressive, young one,” in a single rough movement he shoved you away, slashing at you with the underhand half of his double-bladed weapon. The sting of the cut was enough to make you back away. It was not a deep wound, not fatal. It _was_ enough to make you realize that he had led you into that trap. “Shall we see just how impressive?”

        Energy crackled around the Sith's outstretched fingers as he spoke. You ignored it just as you ignored the growing sluggishness in your limbs, raising Junifel's lightsaber once more.

        -----

        Arcann was ready when his flagship dropped out of lightspeed, waiting only for confirmation that they had made it to Athiss before boarding a shuttle of his own. He took only his pilots, a healer and two Knights with him. They were there as a contingency plan more than anything else. Arcann himself would destroy the Sith if any harm had come to you.

        As soon as the Sith world became visible through the viewport, Arcann felt a great emptiness creeping into his bones. It reminded him of his father in a way, but it served as a distraction. The only thing he cared about was the feeling of your presence on the planet below.

        “Take us down.” Arcann ordered, reaching out through the Force as he did. Even amidst the abyss, Arcann felt your presence. You were alive, and he would ensure that you stayed that way.

        -----

        Growing up on Thanium, even when living within your city's walls, you had seen your share of predatory animals playing with their food before eating it. You couldn't help but feel like this Sith was doing just that.

        You counted yourself lucky that you had maintained only the one injury so far, having switched to a much more defensive style. The Sith had no qualms with the choice, battering away at your defenses with quick and deadly strikes. _That_ wasn't the true problem though. It was the strange power that the Sith was using on you; whatever it was, you could feel yourself growing more and more fatigued with every swing, something that your hours upon hours of training should have countered. Draining your strength, then. It must have been how he bested Junifel.

        With a crash of energy you blocked another attack just in time, willing yourself to stay alert. The Sith must have seen your internal struggle as a smile cut across his face.

        You weighed your options as quickly as you could when a spark of light from the wall across from you caught your eye. Something was cleaving through the stone, leaving a molten yellow cut behind it. Your mind immediately assigned danger to the sight, making your heart beat faster. You were running out of time.

        The Sith took advantage of the distraction, bringing his saberstaff through the air, a move that might have taken off your head had you not ducked out of the way. You distanced yourself again, or rather tried to. The Sith was persistent, keeping close to you - making your long saber pike a liability. He knew as much too, if his strategy was any indication. He had deactivated one half of his weapon to accommodate the close quarters. Your mind felt almost numb and your strength began to fail as you parried attack after attack. Each of the man's swings increased in fericoty and power, beating against your defenses until-

        There was almost a sense of vertigo as Junifel's lightsaber pike came apart, split as the Sith's red lightsaber cut through it. The second half - the staff part of the weapon - flew out of your hand from the sheer force of the blow.

        Meanwhile, a red-hot pain tore across your stomach.

        You froze, trying to register what was happening as the Sith extended a hand and sent you flying backwards. Your back hit the stone wall and your skull soon followed. What followed felt like thousands of veins of fire spreading across your body. Your muscles convulsed and you screamed out against the pain, the bright lightning turning your vision white even through your shut eyelids.

        The pain didn't end when the lightning did, and panic set in when you found it difficult to move. You looked up, desperately searching for something, _anything_ , to use. Junifel lay several feet away, motionless. Her broken lightsaber was just in front of you, and you weakly scraped your fingers across the stone to try and reach it.

        Red light crept into your line of sight, and you ground your teeth together. You had failed. Now, you did all you could think to do and glared up at the man about to kill you.

        Then, amidst the oppressive silence, there was the sound of a lightsaber being ignited.

        You had no sooner shifted your gaze towards the source than you found a figure flying through the air, a battle-cry piercing the room and golden lightsaber ablaze. Arcann clashed against the Sith and you felt tears of relief spring to your eyes.

        The Sith looked surprised, barely blocking Arcann's charge in time. You watched their deadly dance for a moment, seeing Arcann drive the man away from you.

        He had come all this way . . .

        Your mind was rushing from the pain, though Arcann's growls drew your attention. He was backing the Sith up into the corner, though you realized in a moment of clarity that the Sith had allowed you to do the same to him. You had no sooner drawn that conclusion than the Sith activated the second half of his lightsaber once again. The red blade swung in an arc aimed at Arcann's head. _Not him too,_ was all you thought as the Sith's lightsaber connected with Arcann's mask.

        “This is for my son, _Emperor._ ” The Sith gloated, though you didn't see his face.

        A silent scream ripped itself from you, but you managed to pull the halved lightsaber hilt into your hand. The other half of the staff soon followed, and you began to push yourself up. Arcann was still standing as you rose, his mask bearing a line of red from where the lightsaber had found its mark. The cut on the far wall was nearly complete - it was now or never.

        You pushed the pain down, tightening your grip on the weapon halves. Then you stumbled forward.

        Each step felt like it sapped your strength and the wound in your stomach shifted with every movement. You didn't care, focusing instead on gathering what strength you could muster, on making your way towards Arcann without the Sith noticing.

        Arcann had saved you. It was time to repay the favor.

        -----

        Arcann didn't notice the small pain burning across his face. He didn't notice the sorcery of the Sith that sapped his strength, the lightsaber cutting through the far wall nor the Knight laying there on the stone floor.

        He only saw you, with a wound in your stomach, slumped against a wall. You and the man threatening to take you from him.

        It had been some time since he'd fought with such ferocity, since the world had blurred around him to hide all but a single purpose. A reason to fight other than hatred, and it had undoubtedly uncentered him. He had been unhinged enough to let the Sith to strike him, a mistake he would not make again.

        Then he saw you stand. You held the halves of a Zakuulan saber pike, death in your eyes. Arcann knew what you planned, and locked blades with the Sith. Keep his focus off of you.

        -----

        Arcann's distraction almost worked. The Sith must have seen Arcann's eyes shifting, as he smiled and turned, saber raised to block your swing.

        Arcann froze, but your gaze remained determined even as the broken weapon was halved again by the Sith's lightsaber. Then, with a _snap-hiss_ you ignited the blue blade of the lightsaber and brought it down through the opening in the Sith's defenses.

        The Sith, split from shoulder to navel, crumpled to the ground with a look of shock on his face.

        It was over.

        You smiled, looking up to Arcann. Words were caught on your tongue, but that soon became secondary as the pain you had repressed seeped through your body, and your weakened muscles gave out.

        “(Y/N)!” Arcann was by your side in an instant, pulling his arms around you.

        You only smiled up at him before a wave of pain caught a scream in your throat.

        “Your Highness!” Caixan's voice forced a sigh of relief. He was alive, maybe Myr and Junifel were too. If they were, then it wasn't for nothing.

        It was a good thought, one that put you at ease as you drifted away. You felt the ground disappear from underneath you as Arcann lifted you, and your conscious slipped away soon after.


End file.
